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Five Finger Death Punch	By : mmarc56 Category: Celebrities - Misc > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1552 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Five Finger Death Punch or any of its members, this story is a work of fiction, and I made no money writing it.

Chapter List
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Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Beach

Jason stepped out of Zoltan’s bathroom carrying a towel and wearing black swim trunks with various-sized, yellow stripes at the top and a white and gray stripe on both knees. He wore brown camouflage sandals that were torn and faded around the edges of the straps and his chest was covered by nothing more than his tattoos. Zoltan licked his lips.

“Ready to hit the beach?” the older guitarist asked.

“Oh, I’m very ready…” he murmured in response, eyeing him up and down.

Zoltan wore light colored board shorts with white, green, blue, and yellow Hawaiian print and black Reef Men’s sandals, his dreads were held back by a ponytail holder, and his sunglasses rested on top of his head. He picked his towel up off the bed as he stood up and followed the other man out of the room. Jason’s ass looked fantastic in swim trunks and as he pulled open the door Zoltan gently pinched one of his cheeks and then delicately brushed his fingertips up its round surface in a subtle caress.

The older man pulled back, turned around, and said, “Hey, come on. Don’t fondle my ass.”

“That wasn’t fondling.”

Jason pulled back again quickly, having anticipated Zoltan’s attempt. “Don’t show me what fondling is, man.” He pointed out the door. “Out you go.”

“Oh, please, after you. I insist.” He mocked the voice of a gentleman, smirked, and gesture out the door.

The guitarist couldn’t help but laugh, “No way, Z. Come on. Get out there.”

“Ah! Ha-ha.” Zoltan threw his head back in defeat and exited the room, but he began to slow down a touch as Jason caught up so he still trailed a little bit behind him.

“Come on—!” he suspended the noise and made a wide gesture to urge the younger man ahead of him.

“What? I wanna have a view here!” Jason started walking backwards. “Oh, come on! Don’t be that way! You gotta a nice ass!”

The older man laughed and they teased each other until they made it to Zoltan’s dark red convertible.

“This is ideal beach weather!” Jason declared from the passenger seat, throwing his arms up into the breeze. “The sun’s out, nice breeze—”

“—nice ass…” Zoltan mumbled, purposely loud enough to be heard.

He dropped his arms and laughed, “Are you gonna let that go?”

“Not until I get a piece of it,” he responded with a smile, keeping his eyes disinterested and focused on the road. Jason tapped his goatee-tinted chin with the knuckle of his index finger and then threw his feet up on the dashboard as the sights, smells, and sounds of the beach floated over them. People were flocked like seagulls on the sand and across the boardwalk, the air was salty with sea salt and French fries from local food stands, and the atmosphere buzzed with people talking, children screaming, seabirds shrieking, and the ocean crashing into the shore. Vivid white triangles stood out on the distant ocean horizon and the water was dotted with multicolored floatation devices and people’s heads.

The two men found a spot amongst the crowd, far up the gradual slop of the sand, and spread out their towels. Zoltan immediately laid down on his, brought his sunglasses over his eyes, and folded his arms behind his head as Jason stood over him.

“Do you wanna go swimming?” he asked him.

“Are you kidding?” the younger man said, “I’ve gotta work on my tan.”

Jason hesitated before commenting, “You might wanna put some sun lotion on those tattoos so they don’t fade.”

“You mind doing that for me, babe?” A small smile forced itself onto his face.

“That’s pretty gay…”

“Mm-hm.”

Jason hesitated again, scanned the public, and then got down on his knees and reached across the guitarist’s body for the sun lotion. He squirted some of the cool, thick liquid into his palm, and applied it to Zoltan’s chest. Zoltan raised his sunglasses briefly and smiled at him before returning to his original position.

“Thanks, baby.”

“No problem.”

Jason took his time rubbing the lotion into his skin and ran his hands thoroughly across his body, and as he did he momentarily considered kicking sand on him when he was done so that’d it stick to his shiny, lotion-coated skin. He shook the playful thought out of his head, though, and wiped his hands off on Zoltan’s shorts.

“All done.”

“I’m gonna need you to do my back later.”

“Okie dokie, smoky.” Jason stood up. “I’m going swimming.”

“Have fun,” he chuckled.

The guitarists spent the day at the beach, enjoying the sun rays and the ocean water. Jason eventually managed to coax Zoltan into at least standing in the tide, but once he was there he tackled him down into the water and soaked his head. The younger man sputtered and cursed and fought against his friend.

“Fuck! Get off me, man!” he shouted, breaking himself free as the other man fell back laughing, “You got sand in my shorts! Damnit, stop laughing!”

“‘You got sand in my shorts!’” he mocked him, “Bwa-ha-ha!”

“Knock it off!” Zoltan stood up. “Damnit, I’m all wet now.” He turned to face Jason and tried to say, “If I went to the beach to go swimming I do it of my own accord,” but he couldn’t help joining in on his laughter as he laid there in the surf cracking up. “You’re an asshole,” he said with a smile.

The two men air-dried walking around the boardwalk, purposely bumping each other with their elbows. “Your Mohawk looks stupid wet,” Zoltan commented.

“Your face looks stupid wet.”

“Oh, good one,” he responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Just a short walk away he spied an ice cream stand and stopped Jason dramatically by putting his arm out in front of him. “Do you want ice cream?” he asked, excitedly snapping his face towards him. He nodded towards the stand.

“Yeah, sure.”

They both got soft serves and sat on the fence of the pier above the water as people strolled past them. Zoltan watched Jason lick his vanilla cone with a heat in his stomach that couldn’t be cooled by his dessert. Jason noticed him.

“Do you want some?” He offered it to him and held it up.

“Sure,” he mumbled. He leaned forward and ran his tongue up the scoop, collecting the ice cream on his tongue. He made eye contact with him when he finished his lick and smiled shyly as he swallowed.

“Give me some of yours,” he requested, leaning into him. Zoltan held up his chocolate cone and shivered inside as Jason bent over and licked the dripping parts of the scoop. He ran his tongue up the side and sat straight once more as he licked the chocolate off his lips. “‘S good,” he nodded to himself and picked up were Zoltan had left off on his ice cream.

“Yeah…” he mumbled. He watched him finish his dessert as his melted, dripped down his hand, and left sticky streaks on his fingers.

Jason folded one of his legs over his other and his foot rested next to the younger guitarist’s lap. Zoltan felt like he was losing it. He stared lustfully at his sandal covered feet, coated with gritty sand and patchy, feathery black hairs and he felt his crotch heat up. He couldn’t risk getting a boner in a swimsuit, especially not in public, and his mind immediately jumped to the idea of “accidently” dropping his melting ice cream cone in his lap. Thinking about that, however, made him imagine Jason sucking the chocolate out with his mouth, which led to his dick hardening completely.

“Damnit,” he muttered under his breath.

“You wanna go home after this?” Jason asked as he bit through his waffle cone.

“Ah… Why don’t we just sit here a while longer? Enjoy the weather?”

“Okay…” He eyed him suspiciously and somehow it didn’t take him long to connect the hand in his lap to his predicament. “Yo, are you hard?” he whispered, a facetious smile leaking across his face.

“No! Just… y—yeah,” he admitted, scanning their surroundings nervously.

Jason giggled and shook his head. “I can wait.” He started humming mock-casually and skylarked conspicuously with a cruddy smirk. Zoltan sighed in exasperation.

They awkwardly exited the boardwalk to the parking lot with Zoltan keeping his hands in his pockets and Jason doing his best to be his shield. Once in the car, however, Jason died laughing.

“Oh my God! What did I even do to make you hard?”

“Nothing!”

“Was it the ice cream thing?”

“No!” Zoltan exclaimed, but his eyes darted away as he said it.

Jason grabbed his arm and leaned across the drink console. “Were you thinking about dirty things, Z? Thinking about how fantastic my ass looks in swim trunks?”

“Get off it!” He swatted him away and started the car irritably as Jason laughed on and on in the passenger seat. “Well I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said, slapping his arm to make him stop.

“Oh, not as much as you! Ha—ha!”

“Get off it…” he mumbled, an embarrassed smile coming to his face.

When they pulled into Zoltan’s house and stopped the engine, Jason leaned across the drink console again and put his hands on both sides of the younger man’s face.

“Hey Zoltan,” he said before he kissed him on the lips, “Thanks for the beach day.”

When his face was released, he grasped Jason’s and kissed him again, longer and harder.

“Ooh!” Jason pulled back and smiled when it was done.

“Please don’t tease me anymore,” Zoltan pleaded with serious, desperate eyes and a mirthless face. There was probably a million words under his skin and those were the only ones he could say. Jason grinned at him, so he shook his shoulders lightly. “Please…”

His smile softened and he tenderly ran his fingers across the younger guitarist’s hairline. “Shh… I ain’t teasing you. Thanks for the beach day.”

Zoltan stared at him a second. “My pleasure.” As Jason went to open the car door, he stopped him. “Wait, Jason. C-can I do something for you?”

“What?” He sat straight again.

“J—just…” He cautiously moved his hand towards his crotch and lightly ran his fingers across the bulge beneath the thin, polyester fabric. He watched the older guitarist’s face for resistance and upon catching none he leaned down and readjusted himself in the driver’s seat. The older man let him undo the drawstring to his swim trunks and slowly pull them down them to reveal his flaccid penis beneath a brush of black pubic hair. He looked into his face again. Nothing; it was a blank canvas and he could paint it with the colors of pleasure.

Zoltan started by stroking it in his closed fist in the dead silence of the garage, accented only by very quiet breathing. The thing twitched in his hand and began to harden, and as Jason made himself comfortable in the seat he put his hand on the back of the younger man’s head. Prompted to suck it, Zoltan swallowed his apprehension and pride, leaned down completely, and put its soft, fleshy length in his mouth.

The only reaction Jason gave was so minute it was almost nothing.

Even as Zoltan tried his best to blow him, his cock still remained only somewhat erect and he became nervous. He used his hand and tried to reenact what he liked women to do to him and only much later than what most would consider normal did Jason finally became fully hard. He beat it vigorously in his hand and looked up at the older man, whose blank expression was only a bit distorted with either enjoyment or disgust. Zoltan was too nervous. This needed to be good if he’d ever want to do more with him.

He didn’t know if it’d be effective, but Zoltan decided to use a trick he used when performing oral on women and rubbed one of his hips in his hand. He stirred some. Zoltan licked him up his length like he was licking his ice cream cone and reached further into his swimsuit to fondle his testicles. Jason let out a small breath and let his head fall against the head rest. It irritated him how quiet he was: it was hard to tell he was enjoying it until now, and even now he didn’t know how much.

It impressed him, however, just how much stamina he had. It was hard to keep sucking, yet it was admirable how long he could go without cumming. That was, unless, he wasn’t cumming because the blow job wasn’t good enough.

“You getting there, babe?” He asked in a soft murmur, stroking it with both hands.

“Mm-hm.”

He looked up into his eyes. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Mm…”

He spit on it and put it in his mouth again, deciding to let it go as long as it need to. Jason stirred again and his cock twitched in his mouth, so he pulled back up and rubbed it in both hands like he was wringing a towel.

“Let it out, baby…” he mumbled, watching its tip with anticipation.

“Get in there,” he muttered in response, putting his hand on the back of his neck again and pushing him down.

Zoltan let him fill his mouth with his dick, expecting what was to come with a fluttering heart. Jason filled his throat and covered his tongue with his ejaculation of saliferous, warm cum that came out with a quiet groan and jerk of the abdomen, and Zoltan’s face contorted as he pulled back. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted slightly as the white liquid dribbled out of his mouth and through his goatee where the last few drops of what had come out dripped onto his bare chest.

He didn’t open his eyes until he felt the older man petting his head. Jason used his index finger to wipe the seed out of the younger man’s facial hair and stuck it into his mouth where he felt the load still sitting on his tongue mixed with his salvia. “Swallow,” he commanded, wiping his finger on his shorts.

Zoltan swallowed and shivered as the pungent, lukewarm liquid slid down his throat. Jason patted his shoulder, tucked away his penis, retied the drawstring, and exited the car. The younger guitarist sat there a second longer, still processing the mouthful he received, before he looked over his shoulder at the man walking around the car and asked, “Do you want another kiss?”
“Are you kidding? I’m not kissing your filthy mouth.” He smiled and winked at him. “Oh, and Zoltan,” he paused in his steps, “who’s the whore now?”
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Five Finger Death Punch